


The First Night of The Rest of Our Lives

by ProjectOrthus



Category: Good Omens, Good Omens TV
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, romantic, soft, soft fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 07:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProjectOrthus/pseuds/ProjectOrthus
Summary: Directly after the almost-apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley bus back to Crowley’s flat. Aziraphale is worn out after the day, and distressed about his bookshop, but, like always, Crowley is there to take care of him.





	The First Night of The Rest of Our Lives

Crowley and Aziraphale sat, side by side, on the bus back to Crowley’s flat. They weren’t tired, per say, as angels and demons didn’t tend to get tired. They were more fatigued from the day’s efforts, and Crowley for one couldn’t wait to get home to the flat and kick back his feet. 

Aziraphale was slightly petrified at the thought of staying the night with Crowley. He didn’t usually sleep, of course, but he knew that the demon did, and would most likely expect him to. However, he felt an unusual drooping of the eyelids, a heaviness of the chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was fatigue, he knew, and he could either perform a miracle to keep himself going or sleep, and he dind’t want to risk any miracles at that moment. 

So Aziraphale leaned onto Crowley’s shoulder and shut his eyes, letting the rocking of the bus lull him to sleep. Crowley glanced at him briefly, a small smile flickering across his face. He reached over and took the angel’s hand gently in his, lacing their fingers together. Aziraphale stirred briefly, but didn’t open his eyes. 

When the bus pulled up to the apartment, Crowley gently roused Aziraphale, and the two of them walked into the flat. It was dark, and most people were asleep, so the pair moved quietly and quickly up the stairs and into Crowley’s flat. Crowley closed the door softly behind them as Aziraphale walked into the space, looking around. 

“You’ve done some redecorating,” he observed, “I havn’t been here in a long time.”

“Less plants, yeah,” said Crowley, pulling off his jacket and hanging it up, “let me take your jacket.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Aziraphale smiled, “I’ll keep it on.”

“You’re going to sleep in your jacket?”

“What? No, I don’t plan to sleep,” said Aziraphale, “I’m not tired.”

“Oh, please, angel, this flat has no books, and I’m going to bed,” Crowley said, “what will you do with yourself?”

Aziraphale paused, thinking. He seemed flustered, conflicted. “It just doesn’t seem... right,” he fretted, “staying in the same bed as... well... it’s not you, it’s... there’s rules, which I am already more then bending...”

Crowley smirked slightly, taking Aziraphale by the arm. “You worry too much, angel. What did I tell you? There are no rules now. We’re on our own side.”

“I still shouldn’t...” 

Crowley began walking with the angel towards his bedroom. “It’s just sleeping, Aziraphale. You can sleep as far from me as you want to. I saw you sleep on the bus. You’re exhausted. Get some rest.” He pushed Aziraphale’s shoulders down, so the man sat on the bed. 

“My nightgown...” realized Aziraphale, “oh, my nightgown, it was in the bookshop... everything...” he looked downcast, depressed, as the realization of the bookshop fully hit him.

Crowley sat down beside him, gently putting his arm over the ange’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about that. You can use a dress. I have a few in my closet. They’re black, but... they’ll have to do. Is that okay?”

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley. He nodded sadly, then reached out and pulled off his glasses. “You have lovely eyes,” he said, “you should show them more.”

Crowley smiled at the angel, staring into his eyes. Deeply human eyes. It always wondered Crowley how human angels looked. It was the empathy, he always thought. The deep empathy and love for everything around them. Something angels were the origins of, and humans inherited. Something humans were loosing, and demons had lost. Well, almost lost. Crowley liked to think he held onto a bit of it. Just a bit, though. One tiny little bit, for one person only. Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale sighed, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder and closing his eyes. Crowley reached up and gently pet the angel’s hair, feeling Aziraphale’s chest rise and fall against his. The angel was usually so worried, so tense, Crowley took great joy in seeing him this relaxed. 

“We should get to bed,” he said quietly into Aziraphale’s ear, “let me get that dress for you.”

Aziraphale reached out and took Crowley’s hand before he could move away, clutching it tightly and looking up into the demon’s eyes. He seemed to be searching for words, words he couldn’t find, something he hand’t been able to properly say for hundreds of years. He gave up, sighing, and let go of Crowley’s hand, allowing him to slip away to the closet. Crowley came back with a dress, passing it to Aziraphale. 

“I’ll let you change,” he said, walking out of the room, “call me when you’re ready.”

“Don’t leave,” Aziraphale said. He snapped his fingers, and his attire was rapidly replaced with the dress. His old clothes sat folded on the floor beside him. Crowley smiled and came back to the bed. 

He pulled the covered away, clambering in. “I really don’t see why you don’t sleep,” he told Aziraphale as the angel slipped into bed beside him.

“I suppose I’m too busy most of the time,” said Aziraphale, moving a bit closer to the demon, “this is quite comfortable, you’re right,” he sighed again, “whatever am I to do without the bookshop?”

Crowley shrugged. “Rebuild it. Find more books. You’ll survive.”

“Where will I stay?”

Crowley reached out under the blankets, finding Aziraphale’s hand and taking it in his own. “You could stay here, if you like,” he said softly, “for as long as you want.”

“And I won’t be a bother to you?” Aziraphale asked, “are you sure?”

“Oh, you’re never a bother,” Crowley said, smiling, “quite the opposite. I enjoy your company.”

Aziraphale adjusted his grip on Crowley’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He leaned closer, letting his forehead rest on the demon’s, their faces centimetres apart. Did Crowley feel how Aziraphale felt? It was something the angel had been wondering since the 40’s. He quite liked to think he did, but he was too afraid to ask, or even mention the supposedly apparent... whatever it was between them. What are we? Is what he wanted to ask. 

“For the record,” Aziraphale said softly, “I quite enjoy your company as well.”

Crowley smiled, placing a hand on his angel’s cheek. “Get some rest,” he said, “it’s been a long day.”

And so Aziraphale closed his eyes, letting Crowley wrap his arms around him and pull him closer, letting himself be lulled to sleep by the beating of his heart, and by the rise and fall of his chest. He let all thoughts of the dangers of what he was doing slip away, as well as all thoughts of the bookshop. He left only room for Crowley, wrapped around him, keeping Aziraphale safe in his embrace.


End file.
